“En down ter dis day”—­continued Uncle Remus, watching the smoke from his pipe curl upward over the little boy’s head—­“down ter dis day, Brer Possum’s bound ter s’render w’en you tech him in de short ribs, en he’ll laugh ef he knows he’s gwineter be smashed fer it.”

IV.  HOW MR. RABBIT WAS TOO SHARP FOR MR. FOX

“Uncle remus,” said the little boy one evening, when he had found the old man with little or nothing to do, “did the fox kill and eat the rabbit when he caught him with the Tar-Baby?”

“Law, honey, ain’t I tell you ’bout dat?” replied the old darkey, chuckling slyly.  “I ’clar ter grashus I ought er tole you dat, but old man Nod wuz ridin’ on my eyeleds ’twel a leetle mo’n I’d a dis’member’d my own name, en den on to dat here come yo mammy hollerin’ atter you.

“W’at I tell you w’en I fus’ begin?  I tole you Brer Rabbit wuz a monstus soon creetur; leas’ways dat’s w’at I laid out fer ter tell you.  Well, den, honey, don’t you go en make no udder calkalashuns, kaze in dem days Brer Rabbit en his fambly wuz at de head er de gang w’en enny racket wuz on han’, en dar dey stayed.  ‘Fo’ you begins fer ter wipe yo’ eyes ’bout Brer Rabbit, you wait en see whar’bouts Brer Rabbit gwineter fetch up at.  But dat’s needer yer ner dar.

“W’en Brer Fox fine Brer Rabbit mixt up wid de Tar-Baby, he feel mighty good, en he roll on de groun’ en laff.  Bimeby he up’n say, sezee: 

“’Well, I speck I got you dis time, Brer Rabbit, sezee; ’maybe I ain’t, but I speck I is.  You been runnin’ roun’ here sassin’ atter me a mighty long time, but I speck you done come ter de een’ er de row.  You bin cuttin’ up yo’ capers en bouncin’’roun’ in dis neighberhood ontwel you come ter b’leeve yo’se’f de boss er de whole gang.  En den you er allers somers whar you got no bizness,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee.  ’Who ax you fer ter come en strike up a ’quaintance wid dish yer Tar-Baby?  En who stuck you up dar whar you iz?  Nobody in de roun’ worl’.  You des tuck en jam yo’se’f on dat Tar-Baby widout waitin’ fer enny invite,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, en dar you is, en dar you’ll stay twel I fixes up a bresh-pile and fires her up, kaze I’m gwineter bobby-cue you dis day, sho,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee.

“Den Brer Rabbit talk mighty ’umble.

“‘I don’t keer w’at you do wid me, Brer Fox,’ sezee, ’so you don’t fling me in dat brier-patch.  Roas’ me, Brer Fox’ sezee, ‘but don’t fling me in dat brierpatch,’ sezee.

“‘Hit’s so much trouble fer ter kindle a fier,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, ‘dat I speck I’ll hatter hang you,’ sezee.

“‘Hang me des ez high as you please, Brer Fox,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ’but do fer de Lord’s sake don’t fling me in dat brier-patch,’ sezee.

“‘I ain’t got no string,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, ’en now I speck I’ll hatter drown you,’ sezee.

“‘Drown me des ez deep ez you please, Brer Fox,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ‘but do don’t fling me in dat brier-patch,’ sezee.